


cross that line

by rosyjaeh



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (not between nomin tho), Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drunken Shenanigans, Exes, Las Vegas Wedding, M/M, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23792404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosyjaeh/pseuds/rosyjaeh
Summary: Their eyes meet over the ring on Jeno’s hand, and he’s never seen Jaemin this pale. His lips shake like he’s about to be sick on the covers of Jeno’s bed.“This isn’t happening.”
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 72





	cross that line

**Author's Note:**

> hey! dear jac i hope you enjoy this, i had a lot of fun writing! thank you mandy and hui for hosting nnbb2 <3
> 
> PROMPT: vegas drunk marriage to your ex-boyfriend

The world spins on Jeno’s axis. He catches himself right before he lands face down in the dirt, busy road and flashing lights, his hand curls around Mark’s shoulder. Mark laughs at him, a ringing in Jeno’s ears.

“My god, maybe you shouldn’t have had that last vodka shot.” His hands are so warm on Jeno’s sides, one his arm, pull him back up into standing position. Gentle, almost, but also like he doesn’t really care. He looks softer under the neon city lights. Jeno’s been wanting to kiss him all night. “Since when are you such a lightweight?”

“‘M not.” Jeno brushes his hands off on his jeans, Mark laughs when he pouts.

“Well, I didn’t think you were, but something’s up with you tonight.” Normally, Mark is the easier drunk out of the two of them, giggling, face flooding red, but tonight, he’s steady. Warm hands, rumble in his chest. A grin.

Jeno wants to kiss him, but he doesn’t want to spend the rest of the night alone.

_Come with us to Vegas,_ Yukhei said over lunch, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Thursday lunches in Jeno and Mark’s apartment, planning a casual drinking vacation like it's nothing special. None of them can cook, but it’s a remain from when Jaemin was still around. _You and Mark, me and Renjun. It’ll be fun!_

Renjun laughed by the stove, burning their noodles. _I said to ask Mark, Jeno would never say yes to that._

Of course Jeno said yes to it, he lives to spite Renjun. Maybe that was the plan all along, tease him, put Mark ahead of him, Renjun’s venomous mouth riling him up until he wants to prove himself.

Whatever. They’re here now, three weeks later, their first night in Las Vegas. Flashing city lights, vodka buzzing under Jeno’s skin and he gets high on the hand Mark keeps on his back the rest of the way. Yukhei and Renjun are way ahead of them, already at the club, probably so they can leave early. They were already all over each other in the hotel room, Renjun stops caring about PDA after a few rounds of tequila.

It’s loud in there, dark, the air smells like sweat and too much alcohol. People press together too closely, a woman with electric blue hair hands Jeno a drink at the entrance. 

Mark shakes his head, but Jeno drinks it, anyway. He’s here to have fun.

They will never find Renjun and Yukhei in this tangle of bodies, Mark drags him to the bar. Orders a drink Jeno couldn’t name, pours it down. The edges of his vision are swimming, he clings to Mark’s side.

“A bit drunk, hmm?” Mark is so warm, his smile lights up the room more than the spotlights. So pretty.

But Mark only touches Jeno like this, a hand around his hip to keep him upright even though Jeno’s leaned on the bar, only smiles at him like this when he’s drunk enough. There’s another guy at the bar, bright red hair falls into his eyes, a smudge of eye shadow, glossy lips. He catches Mark’s attention too fast. Pulls it away from Jeno.

He knows the song that’s playing, he’s sure Mark does, too, but he’s too busy trying to make that boy laugh.

It pulls him to the dance floor. He almost thinks he sees Renjun, flash of silver curls in the crowd, bright pink drink on his lips. Everything glows in here, a girl paints a heart on his cheek with her glittery powder.

He does find Renjun, with glow sticks wound around his wrists and Yukhei right behind him, and he loses them again when the crowd carries him away. Maybe it’s better that way, the next time he catches a glimpse of them Renjun looks a minute short of jumping Yukhei’s bones in the middle of the dance floor.

Jeno turns around instead, he hasn’t kept track of how many times the song’s changed or how long it’s been since he left Mark by the bar. He lets the crowd carry him through the room, dances with colorful strangers.

No one here looks like the next person, hair in every shade of the rainbow, long nails, glitter on their faces.

He’s dancing with a girl almost his height, bright green buzz cut and she’s so close he can count the glitter stars glued to her face like freckles. Five, six, seven, but then she leans closer to his ear, laughs, “You’re a really good dancer!” and presses a kiss to his cheek. He doesn’t remember her leaving, but he doesn’t see her again.

He also doesn’t remember when she was replaced with the boy in front of him now, but he doesn’t really care. He’s warm, tall, about Jeno’s own height, broader and sturdier than Mark.

Eyes under a wave of pink hair, something about them is so familiar. The thick eyeliner, the glitter on the stranger’s cheeks obscure Jeno’s view of him, he’s burning bright in the dim lights. The first stranger Jeno kisses tonight, heat flooding his face and a hand against his jaw.

He sees eyes crinkling, a blinding smile and wait, he knows that smile, he knows those teeth and he knows those _eyes,_ the curve of the eyelid he used to trace in the middle of the night, long lashes fanning out. But then the stranger presses a kiss under his eye. A familiar gesture, too familiar, the room caves in on Jeno’s head.

“Jaemin?” he coughs out, hands curl into his shirt and Jaemin’s eyes blow wide.

After that, everything is black.

* * *

Jeno wakes up with a sneeze.

He can’t tell why, at first, there shouldn’t be enough flowers in a city like Las Vegas to trigger a pollen allergy but then he sneezes again. Opens his eyes to find two gigantic bouquets of decorated roses on the nightstand.

And they are not the only ones.

“What the fuck?” He sits up in his bed, comforter sliding down but he’s alone. No one else is here. 

This is his hotel room, he moved in just yesterday, around lunch time, after three hours on the plane. Renjun and Yukhei made out on that very couch last night, Renjun lost some of the pearls threaded into his hair, they’re scattered across the floor. Even Jeno’s glasses still sit where he left them last night.

But Mark’s bed is empty, looks untouched despite the sun barely being up. And the room is covered in flowers, more bouquets on the sideboard, something like a garland over the door.

An empty bottle of champagne kicked over on the carpeted floor, a tray with two fancy glasses. Someone scattered rose petals over his bed, they stick to his skin.

This looks awfully much like a honeymoon suite, but Jeno can’t say why anyone would do that.

His head hurts, from the alcohol and the pollen clogging up his sinuses, and he has to sneeze again. When he reaches up his wipe his nose, he notices the golden band wound around his finger.

Again, _what the fuck?_ He definitely didn’t wear that last night, nor has he ever owned a ring like this in his life.

The bathroom door swings open to reveal the probable last person Jeno would want to see on a morning like this. Pink hair damp from the shower and swept back over his forehead, in a big hotel bathrobe, tied shut.

It’s been months since Jeno saw Jaemin last, in the corner of a cafe on campus bent over his laptop, just days before he left for good. They shared an awkward smile then and Jeno proceeded to avoid looking his way, to resist going up to him and ask. How he’s doing, if he’ll be okay.

Jaemin’s hair was still brown back then. Now it’s bright pink and he stays still in the doorframe.

“What are you doing here?” How did they end up here, in Jeno’s hotel room, and Jaemin used his shower, and it looks like they’re on honeymoon? Did they drink the champagne together? 

Jaemin shakes his head, his eyes are about to drop out of his skull. “Holy shit. I didn’t think. I mean, I saw that I wasn’t alone and, obviously, this isn’t my room or even my hotel, but I didn’t … I thought I would just shower real quick, and leave. I didn’t know you were ... you.”

_You._ End up in a honeymoon suite in Las Vegas with your ex-boyfriend half a year after you broke up, and the first thing he says to you in this morning is that he didn’t you were you. 

Jeno remembers that part of the night, just before everything faded out, Jaemin’s body in the crowd, the alcohol buzzing through the veins under his skin. A tongue in his mouth and a kiss under his eye. He remembers realizing who was in front of him, he almost remembers crashing together, inseparable. Like they used to be.

“Do you know what happened last night?” Jeno waves his hand around the room. “What all of this is?”

A moment of silence, and Jaemin fiddles with something between his hands. The light breaks on it, a flash of gold. It’s a ring, a thin golden band exactly like the one on Jeno’s own left hand.

“Oh my god.” This is Vegas, after all. It was definitely way before midnight when he and Mark entered the club.

Their eyes meet over the ring on Jeno’s hand, and he’s never seen Jaemin this pale. His lips shake like he’s about to be sick on the covers of Jeno’s bed.

“This isn’t happening.”

But it is, they search the room and discover the fatal sheet of paper under one of the throw pillows. Both of their signatures, right next to each other. A little sloppy, they were both drunk, but the rest of the document was neatly filled out and signed by the officiator. In front of the state of Nevada, they are legally married.

Jaemin at least makes it to the sink before he does throw up.

* * *

Las Vegas is beautiful, flashing lights, red and blue and yellow and everything in between, and Jaemin is here. Real and warm, he has an arm around Jeno and he laughs at his jokes.

Jeno can’t remember when they left club, everything is blurring together and he’s not sure if he’ll remember this moment tomorrow, he and Jaemin under the city lights. The tequila tints Jaemin more rosy than he is, the blue lights flashing off the pink hair, the hearts in his eyes. He used to look at Jeno like this all the time.

“I missed you.” It slips off Jeno’s lips before he can think about it. He did miss Jaemin, and now he’s here, under red and blue lights, drunk on too much tequila, and he smiles.

“I missed you, too.” Tilt of his head, he tugs on Jeno’s hand. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Jeno remembers loving Jaemin like a dream on a warm summer night, orange around the edges. Perfect high school sweethearts, freshman year of college and Jaemin wore big sweaters to class, and Jeno could barely see him from across the library without his glasses. There was a recklessness to loving someone like Jaemin, steady and warm and sweet, sticky honey between your hands, a perfect smile. Until it all comes crashing down.

It did three years later, almost done with college, Jeno still remembers the date. Jaemin stopped showing up, removed himself from Jeno’s life bit by bit until there was nothing left.

And here he is, sixth months later, hair bright pink and he smells like too much sugar and alcohol when Jeno leans in, presses a kiss to his lips. Like they were never apart. It almost feels like it tonight, like he’s been kissing Jaemin forever, like he could never stop. “I never wanted to lose you.”

Jaemin hums, lips pressed into Jeno’s cheek. There should be a rule for this. “Me neither.”

They’re in the middle of the street, buzzing life, a billboard over Jaemin’s head but no one’s looking. No one sees when Jeno kisses him, over and over. “Don’t leave again.”

Hand in hand, Jaemin stays right next to him even when they run. Run through the streets, a race or a hunt, Jeno almost tumbles down the stairs but Jaemin’s got him. Hand in hand until Jaemin says,

“We should get married.”

Jeno looks up from the ice cream cone in his hand, vanilla milk dripping onto his fingers. “What?”

“We should get married! So I can’t leave again.” He smiles, almost grins, leans into Jeno’s space. So many teeth, his smile is so wide, reaches into Jeno’s heart. A feeling he hasn’t had in a while, Jaemin seizes his heart. “Come on, this is Vegas. We can do whatever we want, and I’m in love with you.”

Six months later, Jeno doesn’t hesitate a second. It’s too easy, too fast for comfort, but he doesn’t care. They can do whatever they want, and he’s in love tonight.

“Okay, let’s get married.”

* * *

“Do you remember anything of what happened last night?”

Jaemin shakes his head, fiddles with his ring. It rests in the dip of his palm, Jeno has yet to pull his own off his finger. “I don’t even remember meeting you at the club, I had a few too many shots.”

He sits on the edge of the bed, feet tucked under his thighs, looks almost small. All he has to wear are his clothes from last night, collar dipping below his collarbones, jeans too tight. He shivers in the conditioned air. There used to be a point where Jeno would offer him his clothes without hesitation.

They are long past that point.

“Why are you even in Vegas? What are the odds that we are both on vacation here at the same time?”

Jaemin shrugs, shakes his head again. The ring flings from his hands, a soft thud where it hits the carpet and only then does Jeno notice Jaemin’s shaking hands. “I’m here with Renjun. He invited me.”

Jeno’s eyebrows fly up his forehead so fast it almost hurts. “No, that can’t be right. _I’m_ here with Renjun.”

“Did you come here with him? On the same plane?”

“No, he and Yukhei have been here a couple days already. They said they wanted a few days on their own, since it was originally supposed to be their vacation. Mark and I only came here yesterday.”

Jaemin tilts his head to the side. “Well, whatever they told you, they weren’t alone. They took me with them. I even sat next to them on the plane and trust me, I wouldn’t lie about that because that’s not an experience you would ever want to make. Don’t believe anything Renjun ever says about hating PDA.”

The snort escapes Jeno before he can stop himself, and Jaemin smiles at him.

It’s too easy, it’s always been, the two of them laughing, making fun of Renjun. Together, like they used to. It’s not the middle of the night and this isn’t Jeno’s bedroom, not the familiar sheets or the picture on the nightstand, Jaemin’s clothes in his drawer. But it’s Jaemin, with his smile and the crinkles next to his eyes. Real, just a few steps forward, across the bed, and Jeno could touch him. Always warm.

The memory of a love he never wanted to lose, and now here they are. Six months later, with rings on their hands, or on the floor, and an official document. Signed while drunk but there must have been a decision.

What did they talk about last night? Did Jeno tell him how much he’s been missing him, how hard it’s been to live without him? Did he tell him about his stupid crush on Mark, about how it’s mostly caused by how lonely he’s been and Mark is just always there? Did Jaemin say that he missed him, too?

Even drunk, Jeno trusts himself to not make decisions that would harm them.

He gets up off the bed, grabs one of his sweaters out of his suitcase, thrown open on the floor. Jaemin catches it mid air, eyes big and round.

“You look cold.”


End file.
